Jail bait © Dakini 2010

Jail bait © Dakini 2010

Cindy was my best friend growing up. She lived about a mile away in Blue Mountain, New York. We lived in the middle of nowhere, but then again, we lived about 9 miles from the quaint little village of Woodstock. Woodstock was the place for artists and musicians to come and hang out. It was bohemian before it was hip. You can just imagine how much trouble we could get into there. 


Cindy and I were joined at the hips from the time we were 13 or so. We were constantly on the phone talking to each other, in those rare moments when we were not face to face.

She came from good German stock. She lived with her mom and four siblings (from what I remember) in humble home on Blue Mountain Road. At the back of her property you could find a small babbling brook. There were many evenings spent playing on the hill which led to that stream. On warm summer nights we could look up at the sky and watch the bats dart about, catching small flying insects like mosquitoes and no-see-ums (gnats). 

I remember when I lost my virginity (by date rape) and was afraid to tell Cindy about it. I thought she would think I was a whore. My sense of self worth was non-existent back then. 

She and I experimented with various drugs together. I was the adventurous one and always got us in trouble. Her mom used to hunt us down when we were out where we were not supposed to be. Cindy thought it was because her mom knew everyone, I think she was psychic on some level. 

Like the night we pulled, or I should say, tried to pull, that classic trick: "you tell your mom you are staying at my house and I will tell my parents that I am staying at yours." It worked fine with my parents; they were in their own world of denial when it came to me. Cindy's mom, on the other hand was very protective about her children. She checked up on Cindy and discovered we were not where we said we were going to be. Of course not, we were off to meet boys in the Village of Woodstock.

We wanted to meet some boys, but instead we met two men. These men said they wanted to share some weed with us if we would ride back with them to their "camp". We gladly accepted the ride from town, in our naive innocence. I am sure we told them we were 18, although we were only 13 or so and looked it. 

The woods in that part of Upstate New York are filled with tight clusters of birch and maple and various pine trees. Many squatters would camp in the thicket with makeshift shelters crafted from plywood, canvas and fallen trees. This campsite was not much more than that. We soon found ourselves in the middle of nowhere with these two guys. The sky was typical gray, which was not helped by the canopy of trees above us. Cindy and I accepted seats on strategically placed cushions on the floor of the "tent". We smoked the weed and began the standard ritual of casual conversation which most likely consisted of discussing drugs which we had tried and those we had not and of course the favorite talk about music. Everyone loved music and it became the common ground for connecting to one another. 

We began to get more relaxed with the high and comfortable with the conversation but were jolted back to the reality of who we were and what we were doing. We heard a car approaching but could not make it out in the dim light of the forest. Cindy and I looked at each other in horror as we recognized her mother's dark sedan. We had nowhere to run. 

Mortified by the sight of Cindy being dragged into her mother's car by her hair. I had no words to say to the men as I followed my friend. Cindy was tossed into the back seat of the car and barely escaped the slamming door. Her mom stomped back to give the men a few words to think about. She accused them of taking advantage of innocent girls and assured them they would "pay" for their deeds. I could hear them protesting that nothing had happened (which was true) but their words fell on deaf ears.

Humiliated, we slumped down as far as we could, avoiding eye contact with the two who were being scorned by a furious mama bear protecting her offspring (Cindy).

When she finally returned to the car (which seemed like an eternity) she continued her tyrannical lecture. I began to understand why Cindy was living in fear. Her mom did not hit her like mine did, instead she had to endure the ravings of this lunatic. 

The air in that musty car was thick with anxiety and I quickly escaped once we arrived at my home. I was relieved to find the house dark. Guess my parents were at the bar again.  

Later that night Cindy called to tell me that her mom had the guys arrested for contributing to the delinquency and corrupting the morals of minors. Rumors had it that they had to serve a year in jail. I never did ask Cindy's mom how she found us. I was afraid that she would chew me up and spit me out.